as we were getting ready to leave, they called again from the hospital and said that she had passed. And I just remember my grandmother crying “Why did you all let her die like that?” And I don’t know why she said that—maybe it was just the first words she could get out of her mouth.
I was the only man there, and I couldn’t express any hurt at the moment. I had to wake my sister up and deliver the terrible news. It was so hurtful. We all had such deep, sad, but mixed feelings. You have to understand, by this time, my mother had been suffering so much and was so argumentative with everybody that it was a kind of relief when she finally passed. I think that was her way of trying to make sure we all missed her a little less—which was exactly the sort of thing she would do.
I had to try to be strong. We all drove out to Shepherd Spinal Center in Atlanta where she had been staying. They told us a pulmonary embolism had finally killed her. I stood for a while by her hospital bed and touched her hand. She was so cold. The life source had left her body. I felt compelled to fall into prayer, and we all stood around her body and prayed.
With her death, I couldn’t deny her anymore. She became a part of me in a very profound and spiritual way. I truly believe my mother bestowed me with her life’s work and with her strength and her drive. It was likepassing the torch. In the end, that’s my true inheritance, and to me, it’s priceless.
At least in my head, I decided her suffering was not in vain. On some level I cannot fully explain, I began to feel that she sacrificed her life for me, as if there were some strange transfer of her energy and spirit and wishes from her to me. And in my heart of hearts, I truly believe that my mother knew that she somehow saved my soul with her life. At least, that’s how I feel about it. So everything that I have ever done, she’s done too. Because my mother is always in my head and in my heart, I’ve written quite a few songs for her, including “She Knows” on the second Gnarls Barkley album with the lyrics, “Gonna be just like you, I’m giving my life, too.”
Some moments are private, but here’s what can I say: I spoke at my mother’s wake and I sang gospel at her funeral. I just stood up unannounced and unscheduled, and did it completely by the spirit because no matter what, I am my parents’ child. Thinking back, I can’t believe I did that or got through it. But like I said, with all the pain, there was joy too. At last my mother was free.
Big Gipp: The passing of CeeLo’s mother graduated him to being a man. He recognized that there are consequences to the things that we do in life. Overnight, he had to take things more seriously, and he did. When we got word that his mom had passed, I remember looking at Lo and he didn’t cry. He was so strong that it was almost like his mom was there with him, giving him support. As far as dealing with death, I had the sense that CeeLo was at peace with it at the time. He was at peace with knowing that she didn’t have to hurt anymore. And he didn’t have to worry about her suffering anymore. So in a way, her being free of suffering freed
him
up to grow up, take charge, and work like a beast to make it.
CeeLo had started out relatively happy to be along for the Goodie Mob ride, but almost instantly, it became clear that he’s a man who wants to do the driving whenever he can. Remember, Goodie Mob had started as Khujo’s group, but CeeLo always had big and crazy ideas and would not be shy about expressing them. He was pushing us to go farther out—and places beyond anything rap groups did. I remember CeeLo saying things like “Okay, Gipp, we’re all going to wear jumpsuits with gas masks!” CeeLo loved the wildness of rock and roll fashion. Then and now, CeeLo is—first and foremost—atrue artist who loves to push boundaries and buttons whenever he possibly can.
When we first started going into the studio to put
I was the only man there, and I couldn’t express any hurt at the moment. I had to wake my sister up and deliver the terrible news. It was so hurtful. We all had such deep, sad, but mixed feelings. You have to understand, by this time, my mother had been suffering so much and was so argumentative with everybody that it was a kind of relief when she finally passed. I think that was her way of trying to make sure we all missed her a little less—which was exactly the sort of thing she would do.
I had to try to be strong. We all drove out to Shepherd Spinal Center in Atlanta where she had been staying. They told us a pulmonary embolism had finally killed her. I stood for a while by her hospital bed and touched her hand. She was so cold. The life source had left her body. I felt compelled to fall into prayer, and we all stood around her body and prayed.
With her death, I couldn’t deny her anymore. She became a part of me in a very profound and spiritual way. I truly believe my mother bestowed me with her life’s work and with her strength and her drive. It was likepassing the torch. In the end, that’s my true inheritance, and to me, it’s priceless.
At least in my head, I decided her suffering was not in vain. On some level I cannot fully explain, I began to feel that she sacrificed her life for me, as if there were some strange transfer of her energy and spirit and wishes from her to me. And in my heart of hearts, I truly believe that my mother knew that she somehow saved my soul with her life. At least, that’s how I feel about it. So everything that I have ever done, she’s done too. Because my mother is always in my head and in my heart, I’ve written quite a few songs for her, including “She Knows” on the second Gnarls Barkley album with the lyrics, “Gonna be just like you, I’m giving my life, too.”
Some moments are private, but here’s what can I say: I spoke at my mother’s wake and I sang gospel at her funeral. I just stood up unannounced and unscheduled, and did it completely by the spirit because no matter what, I am my parents’ child. Thinking back, I can’t believe I did that or got through it. But like I said, with all the pain, there was joy too. At last my mother was free.
Big Gipp: The passing of CeeLo’s mother graduated him to being a man. He recognized that there are consequences to the things that we do in life. Overnight, he had to take things more seriously, and he did. When we got word that his mom had passed, I remember looking at Lo and he didn’t cry. He was so strong that it was almost like his mom was there with him, giving him support. As far as dealing with death, I had the sense that CeeLo was at peace with it at the time. He was at peace with knowing that she didn’t have to hurt anymore. And he didn’t have to worry about her suffering anymore. So in a way, her being free of suffering freed
him
up to grow up, take charge, and work like a beast to make it.
CeeLo had started out relatively happy to be along for the Goodie Mob ride, but almost instantly, it became clear that he’s a man who wants to do the driving whenever he can. Remember, Goodie Mob had started as Khujo’s group, but CeeLo always had big and crazy ideas and would not be shy about expressing them. He was pushing us to go farther out—and places beyond anything rap groups did. I remember CeeLo saying things like “Okay, Gipp, we’re all going to wear jumpsuits with gas masks!” CeeLo loved the wildness of rock and roll fashion. Then and now, CeeLo is—first and foremost—atrue artist who loves to push boundaries and buttons whenever he possibly can.
When we first started going into the studio to put
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